Traversing the A.T., bit by bit

WRITTEN BY JOANIE RHODA

The day we had been looking forward to for 20 years was finally here — the day we would summit Katahdin. Our adventure section-hiking the Appalachian Trail was drawing to a close. Anticipation mixed with sadness filled my heart.

For the past 20 years, my husband Paul and I knew exactly what we would be doing on our vacations — section-hiking the Appalachian Trail, a week in the spring and a week in the fall. It was a journey that started at Springer Mountain in Georgia in 2005 and carried us over countless mountains through 14 states — 39 section-hikes in all.

When my husband and I were newly married almost 50 years ago, he learned that I like to hike and told me there was a trail called the A.T. that went all the way from Georgia to Maine. I honestly thought he was joking. I was a girl who grew up in New York City and was very familiar with highways, noise, and crowds of people, but knew little about solitude and wilderness. But solitude and wilderness were calling me, and after learning that there was such a trail, I promised myself that one day I would indeed hike from Georgia to Maine.

That dream of mine was put on hold for a few years due to raising three children, but it was never far from mind. Finally, at the age of 51, I said to myself, “It’s now or never.”  

My daughter was more than willing to join me on my first section-hike. We flew to Atlanta, Georgia, and hiked the first 66 miles of the 2,197-mile journey. She turned 21 on that hike, the first of many memories to come.

My daughter returned to the Trail with me a couple more times after that, but it was my husband Paul who became my steadfast hiking companion over 36 hikes. I don’t think he’ll ever comprehend how much it meant to me to have him by my side. I remember one of the hikes in western Maine when he was ahead of me on the Trail and met another hiker. They struck up a conversation and I heard Paul say, “The A.T. is my wife’s dream, but now it is my dream as well.” He didn’t know I heard him say that, and it touched me to the core.

We discovered that each section-hike was a mini-adventure unto itself: different roads to get to the Trail, different towns to experience, different terrain to hike across — from rolling farmland to rugged peaks.Each hike blended to form a rich and colorful tapestry.

Here are just a few of the highlights:

• A starry night atop Siler Bald in North Carolina

• Hiking through the Smoky Mountains in a drought, carrying 5 quarts of water each to make it through 

• Max Patch, a panoramic grassy bald that was later decimated by over-zealous campers during the pandemic, but was later restored to its wild state

• Crossing the Hudson River on Bear Mountain Bridge

• Losing the Trail the day after a tornado obliterated it in New York

• Post-holing through snow on Moosilauke

• Gale-force wind and rain traversing Franconia Ridge

• Stayingat the Huts in the Presidential Range in New Hampshire

• Bypassing the Carrabassett River ford by hiking down Sugarloaf ski slope

• Crossing the Kennebec River in a canoe

• Impassable streams and rivers in the 100 Mile Wilderness

• Spectacular sunset while tenting by ourselves on the shores of Nahmakanta Lake

• Hiking 14 sections with our dear, sweet border collie Denali

• Time spent with family at Kidney Pond in Baxter

Now, there was only one day and one hike left — the summiting of Katahdin.This hike was different than all the others. Our three children were joining us.Erin (40), Adam (38), and Jason (36) wanted to experience the culmination of this amazing journey. We were so happy and proud to have them beside us as we reached the final summit.

The night before, Paul, Adam, and I were tenting at Abol Campground. Adam had flown in from Washington State. Erin and Jason, along with their spouses and kids, were staying at a cabin on Kidney Pond. We told them we wanted to be hiking by 6 a.m. the next day. It would be a long day, and now in our 70s, Paul and I needed every hour of daylight to complete the hike.  

On Saturday, August 31, 2024, Paul, Adam, and I awoke at 4:45 a.m. We ate a quick breakfast, then drove to Katahdin Stream Campground. Erin and Jason arrived there too, right on time. The sun was just rising above the mountain. We didn’t dally, but threw on our packs and started up the Hunt Trail, which is part of the A.T. The old brown sign showed 5.2 miles to Baxter Peak.  

The Hunt Trail is one of the most challenging trails up Katahdin. Soon we were climbing up and over gigantic boulders, bending and twisting our bodies around them as we plodded upward. Clouds moved swiftly across the sky below and around us, giving us glimpses of rocks, woods, and ponds far below. On the upper reaches of the dinosaur’s spine of a rocky ridge, the wind roared. We pulled out our wind breakers. The wind tried to grab them from our hands. In the mist, we crested the false summit onto the Tableland, a relatively flat, rock-covered plateau that made me think what the moon must look like. Only one mile to go to the true summit. The five of us trudged on. Within half a mile of the top, Paul’s boot caught a rock and he went flying face first. He landed with his head just inches from a rock. He got back up onto his feet and kept going, bemoaning the fact that the mist had condensed on his glasses, making it difficult to see.

Suddenly the big cairn atop Baxter Peak loomed out of the fog. I grabbed Paul’s hand, and we raced toward it together. I heard clapping from bystanders. Our kids stepped aside to let us through. Our dream was fulfilled.